Chapter Twenty – The Family Truth

The green dot returned late in the evening. Janet sat on her bed with her notebook open, a glass of water at her side, sober but tense.

Unknown: Time to raise the stakes. Another ten thousand. You want more of me, you pay. Every time you push too far, the price goes up.

Janet’s fingers hovered. She typed slowly.

Janet Brown: You’re a thief holding seniors hostage. You want me to pay to make you famous?

Unknown: Not famous. Immortal. And you’ll pay, Brown. You’ve already shown how badly you want this.

Janet’s pulse quickened. She typed harder.

Janet Brown: You’re not immortal. You’re a coward. You hide behind keyboards and fake names. But I know yours now. Rossi.

The reply lagged. Then:

Unknown: Careful. Names cut both ways.

The green dot blinked out.

The next morning, Janet and Lorne drove to a quiet suburban street on Edmonton’s south side — large, well-kept homes framed by bare maples. They parked outside a brick bungalow with a neat yard and a Rossi nameplate by the door.

Inside they found two elderly parents who greeted them with warmth. Marco and Sofia Rossi were gray-haired and gentle, their voices carrying the cadence of Italy. Framed photographs lined the walls — children and grandchildren smiling at weddings and family dinners.

They sat in the living room, sunlight spilling over a rug worn soft by decades of footsteps.

“Our Ramona?” Sofia repeated, brow furrowed. “We haven’t seen her in years. She…she walked away. No phone calls, no visits.”

Marco’s voice was steady but sad. “Her brothers and sisters stayed. They work in the restaurants, they raise their families. But Ramona…” He shook his head. “She was always different. Self-centered. She thought the world owed her. We told her—hard work builds a life. But she wanted something else. She gambled, she always gambled. The casinos took her money. Or maybe she found someone to pay her way. We never knew.”

Sofia dabbed her eyes. “But we never gave her money. Never. She chose her path.”

Janet spoke carefully. “We believe she’s been running scams. Preying on seniors. Stealing their savings. Thousands at a time.”

Sofia gasped, covering her mouth. Marco’s eyes hardened with disbelief, then grief.

“No,” he said quietly. “Not Ramona. She may be selfish, she may waste her gifts. But a criminal? Hurting old people? Dio mio…”

The room went quiet except for the clock’s tick. The parents looked broken, bewildered, as if their foundations had cracked.

When Janet and Lorne rose to leave, Sofia pressed a trembling hand to Janet’s arm. “Please,” she whispered. “If it is true, stop her. Before she shames us all.”

That night, in Lacombe, Ramona sat at her desk, laptop glowing. She had read Janet’s last message — I know your name now. Rossi.

Rage boiled up hot and uncontainable.

Janet had been a diversion, a way to feed Ramona’s ego. Now she was a threat.

Ramona closed her notebook. Her earlier script of demands forgotten, hatred flared where amusement once lived.

If Janet Brown thought she could expose her, she would learn what it meant to provoke Ramona Rossi.

Plotting revenge gave Ramona a dark thrill. She would turn the tables. She would make the reporter bleed.

The game had changed.